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The one and only thing that excites Logan about the beginning of the year is watching supermarkets flood with Valentine’s Day chocolate.
Because he’ll be frank – January is fucking bleak. Everyone’s Christmas cheer is long gone. People start failing their resolutions left and right. Dry January is a thing, for some godforsaken reason. Don’t get him started on the weather. Bitter, cold, freezing, miserable. He’s cursing his decision to leave the apartment every time he has to.
But kudos to the corporate bastards who decided they had to start pushing their candy agenda as soon as possible. Hell, it works like that with every holiday. Fourth of July just ended? Time to get the Halloween candy out. Halloween over? Christmas candy time. It’s ridiculous, to be sure, but he appreciates the opportunity to snag the chocolate overflow when January gives him nothing else to look forward to.
Logan has one hell of a sweet tooth, and the pockets of his jacket almost always have some sort of candy wrapper tucked away inside. Treating himself isn’t exactly something he’s let himself do throughout his life, and he’s slowly getting used to it. (He blames Wade for making him soft with his blatant affection. He blames him and he wouldn’t have it any other way; Logan adores it and gives back just as good as he gets.) He comes home from grocery runs with red- and pink-wrapped chocolate hearts pouring from their grocery bags – and of course, Wade’s more than happy to help him eat them.
The holiday itself, though? He’s actually never celebrated. Until getting together with Wade, that is. Wade loves a holiday, and it doesn’t really matter what. He’s the type of guy who’ll wish you happy national spaghetti day. Logan isn’t even sure that’s a thing, but it doesn’t really matter to him. All that matters is that they’re eating spaghetti together, and that Wade’s happy getting to do all the stuff he likes to do.
Because despite the, uh, wrong foot they’d gotten off on, Logan is so head over heels in love with Wade. With his enthusiasm, with his competence, with the way he loves Logan back. A hundred little details connect like stars to make up everything that forms his attraction to the guy who’d dragged him out of that bar. If it weren’t for Wade, he would probably still be there at the bottom of the bottle.
Which is why he only protests a little when Wade starts decorating their apartment in some of the gaudiest shit he’s ever seen.
Approximately one month before Valentine’s day, Logan comes home to see Wade standing on his tiptoes to hang a little candy heart banner over the kitchen sink. That’s the least of the damage. It looks like a Pinterest board and a mom blog had sex in here. Red, white, and pink everywhere he looks; throw pillows, wall hangings, little porcelain cupid figurines. Even the doormat got switched out.
“Good god,” Logan mutters.
“Oh hey, honey badger!”
Wade finishes hanging the banner and practically skips over, beaming. And the smile migrates to Logan’s face, because how could it not? Wade’s hands are warm as he cups his face to kiss him, and Logan’s still cold from being outside, and it’s such a welcome sensation that for a minute he just closes his eyes and forgets that their apartment now looks like the inside of a greeting card.
“Hey, Red.” He gives a pointed look around the place, then locks eyes with Wade again. “You, uh…you do know it’s January fifteenth, right?”
“Feels more like January eightieth,” Wade sighs, letting his palms travel down to Logan’s sides as if that doesn’t immediately cover him in thrilled little goosebumps. “God, after Christmas is over they need to just – slide something in there to make the start of the year less shitty to endure. Let us kill off a CEO. Something.”
“Uh-huh.” Mary Puppins walks past them wearing a Cupid’s arrow headband, settling down in her bed in the living room with a massive sigh. As if she’s resigned to the fact that this is her life now, and her life is a tragedy. He knows Wade goes overboard for holidays, but this is extra extra. “That why you gave the whole place an overhaul?”
“Well, yeah!”
Wade moves to flop on the couch, which isn’t easy considering the couch is buried in candy heart cushions that read things like be mine and cutie pie. “Having seasonal depression on top of regular depression is the epitome of fucked up, so I’m beating it back with all things adorable.” He pauses for a beat. “And you’ve never had a Valentine’s Day, so I guess I thought I’d better make up for two centuries’ worth of no cutesy shit.”
This man is too fucking kind. Of course, Logan wouldn’t care at all if they didn’t even acknowledge Valentine’s Day. It’d be enough for him to just be with Wade, no holidays necessary. But since he’s gone ahead and put all the effort in, Logan’s not going to spoil his fun now.
Still, he doesn’t really know what to say to express his gratitude that Wade would bother to go through the trouble. When it comes to receiving big gestures, he tends to get tongue-tied and red in the face. Thanks just doesn’t feel big enough. Oh my god no one’s ever thought this much of me would make him cry.
So he sits next to Wade and turns out his pockets. Each hand is full of candy, the tin foil wrappers shining in pink and red. Wade’s got a knowing little smile on his face as Logan offers them out.
“Found the strawberry creme ones this time,” he says. “Crazy they don’t have ‘em all year.”
Wade takes one and unwraps it, popping the heart-shaped chocolate into his mouth. “One of the many benefits of a soul-sucking corporate candy holiday, peanut. Seasonal chocolate that you crave year-round.”
He unwraps his own chocolate – coconut creme – and swallows it before he’s summoned up the courage to say what he knows Wade deserves to hear.
“You’re too fuckin’ sweet, Red. I don’t, uh – need all this –” he gestures to the everything around them – “but I like it. And I like you.”
Idiot, his brain chastises him, before he can tell it to shut up. Because Wade’s looking at him with those sweet brown eyes like he’s said the perfect thing. Weirdly, his eyes are watering a little. Wade’s no cryer – he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen him do it. His lips are also swelling up?
Acting like nothing’s happening, Wade pops another chocolate into his mouth.
“Awww. Does that mean you like like me, Wolvie?”
The dots connect.
“Wade. Are you fucking allergic to those.”
He looks up innocently, which is pretty hard to do when his eyes are swelling up too.
“Mmmnooo.”
Logan glares at him.
“Okay, yeah. Like really bad. But don’t worry! Healing factor gets it!”
“You,” Logan takes a deep breath, “are a massive pain in my ass. And no more of these.”
Wade hisses, channeling Gollum when Logan goes to remove all the strawberry chocolates, but lets him do it. Logan tosses them, not trusting himself to remember to eat them before Wade can root them out.
Next, he goes to the sink and runs a paper towel under some water. He's having flashbacks to a few of the kids at the X-Mansion having food allergies, and how seriously they had to be taken when they were really severe. There was one time that was pretty scary for a kid. He knows that Wade’s throat isn’t going to close up or anything, but he’d love it if he didn’t scare him like that.
By the time he gets the excess water out of the paper towel and turns around to assess his sweet dumbass of a partner, Wade doesn’t seem to look any worse, but he’s still all swollen.
“Here.” Logan sits back down and leans in, brandishing the soggy paper towel.
Wade leans away, like he doesn’t know what Logan’s trying to do to him. Looking very much like one of those poor dogs who swallows a bee, lips and eyes red.
“What’re you –”
“Hold still, brat,” he says gently. “Aren’t your eyes all itchy? I’m trying to help. Put this on.”
Wade doesn’t do anything. “It’s – gonna heal in a bit anyway. I don’t really…”
“But what if you kinda hurt to look at and I want to help you feel better faster, bub? Huh? What then?” Logan crosses his arms, tries to look stern.
He’s met with a stubborn huff, but Wade doesn’t stop him when Logan presses the wet cloth to his face.
“Feel better?”
Wade grumbles something and nods, surprising Logan by flopping into his lap. He chuckles a little, using his free hand to run loving circles up and down his arm.
“Okay, well, there ya go. Told you so.”
He alternates eyes to help the swelling go down, and in about fifteen minutes, Wade starts to look like himself again. They’re quiet in the meantime. Just Logan petting him, Wade letting it happen. Wade pressing the occasional kiss to his arm. So fucking mundane and ordinary. Logan has never felt happier in his long, long life. Pure domestic bliss.
Eventually, Logan leans down to check on him. Wade looks back, his expression somewhat sheepish.
“Well, look at that,” he remarks dryly. “The evidence of your hubris, gone in a blink.”
“Now I told you so.” There’s nothing accusatory in Wade’s tone. If anything, his wit has a little less edge to it than usual. “Now come down here and kiss me, honey badger. You think I’m too sweet.”
To date, Logan’s never been able to resist a request like that. He bends, smiling, and presses his mouth to Wade’s. It’s a little awkward at this angle, but neither one of them really cares. Kissing is hardly ever neat and polite with them. Logan only cares that their mouths are touching, Wade grinning through it, in their horribly decorated living room.
—-----------------------------------
As days go by and they get closer to actual Valentine’s Day, Logan’s adamant about not wanting a gift. And Wade is okay with that. He seems to accept it right away, and says they could just have a nice dinner at home the night of, get something a little fancier than they normally eat. Sounds perfect to Logan; he's never been hard to please.
Even if he likes celebrating holidays – and having people to enjoy them with – he’s never been someone to gravitate to massive parties or high-energy outings. All the socializing and sensory overload takes so much energy and effort. Logan never had much to spare in the first place. Simply put, he's an introvert that sometimes has to lend a claw in saving the world. Introvirtuous.
In the month before the holiday itself, Logan gets familiar with all the decor. He gets to see Wade walking around in fluffy pink Valentine’s Day themed sweaters. When Wade’s making breakfast, eggs and pancakes get served in heart shapes. And every time Logan leaves the house, he finds actual valentines in his coat pocket – the cheap ones with cheesy sayings on them (signed, of course, with Wade’s name and little hearts).
It’s all so soft and endearing and Logan gets surprised by it every time. Getting spoiled with this sort of thing over and over kind of feels like getting punched in the chest. For a handful of seconds, he’s speechless. Then color floods his face and he can mutter his thanks. The kind of unexpected pleasure that feels so good it almost hurts a little.
Speaking of pleasure.
A few days before Valentine’s Day, Wade pulls something over on him a lot bigger than the innocent stuff he’s been doing so far.
As they're winding down for bed, showered and dressed in varying amounts of layers (Logan gets hot and prefers to wear only boxers, but Wade almost always wears full pajamas), Wade slips away to the bathroom. Logan takes the opportunity to spread out on the bed, stretching like a big cat.
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't already a little hard in anticipation of Wade coming back – he can smell Wade's own arousal, hear his higher pulse, and that's enough to do it for Logan. His sex drive isn't low, even after all these years.
What he isn't expecting is for Wade to smell different when he returns. Different in a way that he can't pinpoint at first, because he looks the same. He's wearing the same old pajamas, a faded t-shirt and sweatpants. Yet there's a smell underneath that. Subtle, but tangible. A fabric smell he swears he knows, but can't name off the top of his head.
Logan has to know what it is. Wade's acting too nonchalant as he tries to slip under the covers, he needs to know what he's hiding. They make eye contact and Wade knows that he knows; breaking out into helpless laughter as Logan crawls on top of him and shoves his nose into the crook of Wade’s neck. He sniffs him all over, playful about it, huffing hot breath in Wade’s ear like a big dog.
Smells like…smells like…oh. Oh.
Like brand new, wine-red lingerie peeking out from the collar of Wade’s shirt.
“Find what you were lookin’ for, puppy?” he asks, sultry in Logan’s ear.
Logan’s at a loss for words for just a beat too long before he can reply with a breathless yeah. Though Wade’s teased him about wearing lingerie more times than either can count, this is the first time he’s actually done it. And Logan’s gone from pretty horny about the anticipated sex he knew they were going to have to painfully hard.
Wade’s legs hitch up around his waist, rubbing his hardening cock to Logan’s. His lips press against the shell of Logan’s ear, making him shudder.
“Good boy.”
Logan whines, soft, taking the t-shirt’s collar between his teeth and tugging to show Wade how impatient he is. (And he’s being so considerate; he could easily rip the shirt to shreds.) He wants to see the rest of it. He needs to see Wade spread out in all that pretty lace. Touch him, taste him –
“Use your words, baby,” Wade smiles, reaching up to tangle a hand in his hair. “You’re fucking cute when you’re worked up, but I need to hear you say what you want.”
“Take your clothes off,” Logan growls. He grinds against Wade in earnest, breath coming in short huffs. “Can’t just – have that on and not – and not let me –”
“Okay, okay.”
Still grinning, Wade sits up and sheds the old t-shirt.
There aren’t words in the English language to describe what seeing that bralette does to Logan’s brain. There aren’t words in any language. All he can do is place his hand to Wade’s skin, taking in the feeling of the lace and how pretty he looks.
“Fuck, Wade,” he whispers after a second of this. “Thought you – thought you said no gifts.”
“It’s not Valentine’s Day,” Wade says, as if that takes away from the fact that Logan has been spoiled for the past few weeks. “So.”
“You’re impossible. And I’m gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good.”
Logan’s hardly aware of what he’s saying, but his palm seems to be stuck moving little reverent circles over Wade’s lace-covered nipple. He leans in to kiss it, open-mouthed, sucking at the hardened peak through the lace. Wade gasps a little, arching into the feeling. Logan sincerely hopes he didn’t count on this pretty outfit making it out in one piece. He wants to rip it off with his teeth, shred it apart.
“You gonna let me show you the rest, peanut?”
Without another word, Logan scrambles off of him so that he can take off his sweatpants. Instantly, he’s kicking himself for not getting them off sooner. The bralette comes with matching panties, just as decadent to see on Wade’s body. The cherry on top? Thigh high stockings. He doesn’t think he’s ever appreciated Wade’s long, slender legs more than right now.
It’s as if he’s being pulled along by magnetic force; Logan has to clamber back on top of Wade and kiss him. Shaky, eager, helpless kisses that betray how fucking needy he gets. Wade leans back into the pillows with a little satisfied sound, petting him again, an anchor.
Logan lets his mouth wander from Wade’s lips, down the line of his throat. He’s sensitive there, and the sweet little sound he makes to be kissed right behind his ear always gets Logan going. He spends a lot of time there, licking and sucking marks that won’t last, feeling a bit smug when Wade starts rolling his hips up impatiently.
“You’re teasing me,” Wade says, his words accusatory but his voice a little too breathless to hold any sting.
“It’s called anticipation, sweetheart.” All the same, Logan moves lower, kissing down Wade’s chest, his stomach. “You're so pretty for me, wanna look at you a minute longer before I take you apart.”
He doesn't miss the look that flashes across Wade's face, silent protest at the word pretty, but he's quickly distracted by Logan's mouth over his cock. Kissing it where it strains against the lace, nosing against his inner thigh, taking in the deep scent of his arousal. He's leaking into the fabric already, a little wet spot against those delicate patterns, and Logan laps it up greedily.
“Fuck,” Wade hisses.
“You want me?”
Logan says the words to the soft skin of his inner thighs, but his eyes burn into Wade’s.
Wade smirks.
“What do you think?” He trails a hand down to rub over the bulge in his panties, hips rising into the sensation. “Fuck me, honey badger. Right now.”
With a low growl, Logan sinks his teeth into the lace closest to Wade’s hip. It only takes a few sharp tugs before it begins to tear. Wade’s hand finds his hair again as he does, looking down at him fondly like he knew that this is exactly what would happen if he surprised him with lingerie. Hell, he’ll buy him more if he wants it. As much as he wants. All Logan knows is that he needs access to this particular region of Wade’s skin and he needs it right now.
The panties give up easily, hanging off so that the majority of the material is now a flap that Logan moves out of his way. He pauses to press a line of kisses to Wade’s cock, satisfied with how flushed with need it is already. Wade always tries to act like he’s so chill about getting topped, tries to keep up the banter, but they both know he’s about to be a mess.
“Pass me the lube,” Logan says, straightening up and placing both hands on Wade’s hips. Rutting against him for emphasis.
Wade has it in hand almost immediately, fumbling a little in excitement.
Popping the lid and spreading some between his fingers, Logan warms it with his breath before sliding the liquid over Wade’s hole, very aware of the way his legs squeeze Logan’s waist tighter as he does.
“Wider for me baby, scoot down a little – there we go.”
He knows he should be focusing on lining himself up with Wade’s hole, but it’s so hard not to look at his face. Flushed and breathing hard, licking his lips and squirming and fuck. Logan gives up and lets himself look, pressing the tip of his cock to Wade blindly. Hell, he'd know his way around through scent and touch alone anyway. He doesn't want to miss this view.
Wade makes an almost inaudible sound as Logan pushes in the tiniest bit, eyes fluttering. He's prettier than any woman Logan's ever seen, more erotic and enticing, and the lace of his bra swells up and down with every breath. Up and down. Logan finds himself fascinated by it.
“Doin’ real good,” he says in a soft purr.
“Faster,” Wade insists, digging his nails into Logan’s sides for emphasis. “C’mon, peanut, give it to me.”
It’s not a stretch to say that they both have sex drives that border on ridiculous. Going a day without at least fooling around a little is a rare event. Even more rare to see Wade skipping his usual banter and just begging up at him with Bambi-brown eyes.
Logan can only smirk at him, giving him what he wants inch by inch. The tight, tight heat of Wade around him and the look on his face is enough to make him moan, tilting his head back for a second just to soak in the pleasure.
Because Wade's everything. The whole package wrapped up in one chatty, weird, beautiful man. Physical attraction would be enough to entice him for an on and off fling, sure. But to be wrapped so thoroughly around someone's finger takes something special – and Wade has it. Wade has him, for as long as he's willing to keep Logan around.
Pausing only to hitch one of Wade's legs higher – to get the angle deeper – Logan keeps his promises. With the first experimental thrust, Wade curls closer with a whine, meeting him halfway as much as he can. It's so fucking gratifying to know that he's wanted just as much as he wants Wade. Logan grinds in hard, circling his hips before pulling back again.
Wade makes another little high pitched pathetic sound, trying to pull him closer, and Logan goes easily. Pressing on top of Wade so he doesn't get most of his weight, Logan bends Wade in two, settling when they're chest to chest so he can kiss him. Wade wraps his legs around his back, gasping as Logan licks into his mouth, finally fucking him in earnest.
“Fuck, Logan,” Wade says into his mouth, letting both hands wander back into his hair. Pulling it hard, the way he likes it. “God, you're so –”
Logan fucks him deeper, faster, and he never gets to hear the end of that sentence. Wade's cock is wedged between them, slippery and leaking. He fumbles down to grab it, squeezing in one long pull. Then again, again, again until Wade's legs are shaking.
“Baby please,” he pants. “Please please please –”
Wade's not the only one struggling. Logan can’t even pretend to have a sense of self-control when he’s involved, and he’s quickly losing the ability to tease. Or form a thought. Pure instinct clouds his brain like ink in water, coating everything in a pleasant, tingly sort of way. It all narrows down, becomes simpler.
He can only hear the way a gasp of breath gets forced out of Wade when Logan fucks into him. His mate’s sweet little sounds. Pheromones heavy in the air and his racing pulse. The way his body tightens around Logan's cock as he gets closer to coming, every signal and hint letting him know that he’s already toeing the line.
“So close, aren't you sweetheart,” Logan says in a rush, hardly aware that he's saying it. “Fuck, I wanna feel it.”
Wade's head rolls back on the mattress, losing all ability to concentrate.
“Yeah-hh.”
Logan growls into Wade’s skin, the sound ending in a soft whine as he feels Wade’s whole body go tense like a bowstring.
“That’s it, Red, I’ve got you, fuck, let go for me, please –”
Wade’s already there, coming hard between the accordion fold of their bodies and gripping Logan to him tight. Logan sinks his teeth into his collarbone, fucking Wade through every thick pulse. He can vaguely feel the hands in his hair going gentle, petting him as Wade encourages him to chase his own release.
There’s no way he can bear to hold back a second longer – once he feels Wade relax the slightest fraction, Logan’s right behind. His eyes flutter shut as the sensation crashes over him in a wave, thrusting into Wade until he can’t take the oversensitivity. He settles on his haunches on top of Wade with a quiet sound of satisfaction, going nose to nose. Cupping his face in both hands and stroking his face with his thumbs.
“Let me guess,” Wade says after a few moments. “You hated it.”
“It was awful,” Logan answers, panting. Dripping sweat. “Please please don't wear cute shit like that again.”
Wade kisses him. “No promises.”
—--------------
Never let it be said that Logan can't cook a damn good steak.
You know what? He’ll back up. He can cook a damn good anything, if he puts his mind to it. Let’s face it, not knowing how to cook after being alive for two hundred years would be worse than pathetic. He’s no master chef or anything, but he gets by. It helps that cooking is just a series of predictable steps – follow them, don’t fuck up, and everything will taste great. Logan can manage that.
He’s been placed in charge of tonight’s Valentine’s Day dinner, while Wade made dessert earlier in the day; apple dumplings from scratch. Which have definitely not been steadily disappearing every time Logan passes through the kitchen. Hey, it’s not his fault that Wade’s been upping his dessert game – and Wade knows they’re his weakness. (Also, Wade looks fucking cute all covered in flour and cinnamon sugar.)
Their apartment is a comforting bubble of sounds and smells as Logan goes through the motions of prepping the steak and sides. They've got a playlist on, something sappy they've both added songs to leading up to tonight. Goofy decorations and all, everything feels just right.
Wade’s sitting on the edge of the counter, kicking his feet idly as he watches Logan work.
“Sure you don’t need any help?”
“I’m sure,” Logan says, with a hint of amusement. This is about the third or fourth time he’s asked. He knows Wade wants to feel useful when he doesn’t have anything to do, but Logan has this down to a science, and enjoys doing it. “You sittin’ there lookin’ nice is all the help I need.”
Wade rolls his eyes, but he’s blushing a little. And he does look nice, in his white sweater covered with little red hearts.
“Yikes, okay, didn’t know we were tagging this under tooth-rotting fluff.”
“I’m just gonna nod and act like I know what you’re talking about.”
“Safe thing to do.” He’s grinning.
They fall into a companionable silence. The steaks are tenderized within an inch of their life (with an actual fork and knife, not using his own claws, despite the fact that Wade thought “it would be really cool and he should”), seasoned, and ready to go. The hasselback potatoes have been successfully hasselbacked. Asparagus is currently roasting.
“Oh, hey, guess you could get some more paper towels out if you wanted.”
“Yes, Chef!”
Wade’s up and off the counter as soon as Logan gets the sentence out, skidding on sock feet to the little hallway closet where they cram all the cleaning supplies. The door was a pain in the ass to latch last time Logan got in there, because –
Oh, hell. Too late.
Hard enough keeping secrets from Wade without literally telling on himself. There’s several thuds from the closet as things tumble out, and Wade makes the discovery Logan knew he would. Should’ve chosen a better hiding spot.
“Whaaat is this?”
Wade comes back around the corner dragging the stuffed axolotl that’s almost as long as he is tall, beaming at him.
Logan tries to pretend like he isn’t blushing, flipping one of the steaks as it hisses at him in the pan.
“Well gee, Red, I have no idea.” Logan pauses for a second, transferring the steak to a plate. “Thought you might like it – it’s weighted. And, y’know, they can regenerate, like you and me.”
Wade hugs it like he’s trying to squeeze the stuffing out of it, with Mary dancing at his feet and wagging her tail.
“You fuckin’ softie,” Wade says. “We said no presents.”
“Well, you weren’t supposed to get it until tomorrow,” Logan replies, though they both know that’s just as flimsy of an answer as Wade’s little lingerie surprise was. “Looks like we’re even as far as rule-bending goes.”
As long as Wade doesn’t find out about the other present Logan has hidden away.
“Looks like we are.” Wade sets his present on the couch and walks over to kiss him on the cheek. “Thanks, peanut. You’re the sweetest.”
Logan turns his head to get Wade’s lips again, on his own mouth this time. Then again, again, until the quick kisses melt into something that’s going to make their dinner go cold if they’re not careful. They eventually pull themselves out of it, a little dizzy and breathless, Logan’s whole face crinkling into a genuine smile when he sees the way Wade’s looking at him. Just as giddy and soft as Logan feels.
He finally got it right.
“I’m not that sweet,” he says. “I just love you, brat.”